


The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known

by quinoaquin



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Ben is "alive", Five being difficult, Five has too many issues to count, Five hates being touched, Five is 16 (aka 60ish), Five is UNHINGED yo, No Incest, Number Five | The Boy Has Issues, Number Five | The Boy Needs A Hug, Number Five | The Boy Whump, Number Five | The Boy has PTSD, Number Five | The Boy-centric, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Touch-Starved, Violence, also there is a mission eventually, i literally don't know how to write anything else, it's just non-stop angst, the hargreeves fight fascists
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:55:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26061520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quinoaquin/pseuds/quinoaquin
Summary: Five comes back and nobody hugs him. (In which Five is desperate for love and intimacy he's incapable of allowing himself.)P.S.: This is ANGSTY, people!--"They hate me," Vanya had said."There are worse things that can happen."Like everyone being too dead to hate you.Or waiting to come back to them for 45 years only to realize you've somehow forgotten that your family never really liked you anyway, and that your return wasn't worth more than some short lived confusion.
Relationships: Dolores/Number Five | The Boy (Umbrella Academy), Number Five | The Boy & Klaus Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy & Vanya Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy (Umbrella Academy) & Everyone
Comments: 227
Kudos: 787





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The summary on (most of) the chapters includes a RECAP OF THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER so you don't have to re-read them if you've forgotten the story! :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter doesn't have a lot of dialogue but please suffer through it!

At thirteen (the first time around), Five had already been avoiding human contact like the plague for as long as he could remember.

It was often an expression of things like trust, friendship, affection... the sort of weakness you couldn't afford if you wanted to be the best. To be as capable as possible of carrying out a mission safely and successfully.

 _Love_ didn't protect your family. Their father tried to teach them as much, but none of his idiot siblings were smart enough to understand the lesson or strong enough to live it.

Feelings of love had become inseparately linked to feelings of weakness in Five's mind, and the possibility of being or even appearing weak sounded every alarm in Five's head. Weakness was not an option. He wouldn't let it be.

But for young Five who was in all regards still just a child, especially having been starved of it for most of his life, love and touch were the most tempting things in the world.

\- -

Even the most innocent of those experiences - a warm smile from Vanya, a joyful laugh from Klaus, a playful shove from Ben - were enough to make Five realize that it was a too addictive sort of comfort for him to indulge in, not even a little, not even occasionally. The warmth that spread over him was suffocating, always followed by a desperate, _disgusting_ need-- the need to be taken care of, to connect with someone, to be liked or even loved.

He wanted to roll over and expose his soft belly to them.

It made him burn hot with shame, to want something like that. To _crave weakness_. How utterly _pathetic_. If his father ever found out, he would laugh at him. Or just beat him senseless.

No, Five could not afford weakness-- he was the smartest, the quickest, the most lethal, and it was his duty to be the best he could be. To do whatever needed to be done to better protect them.

\--

Keeping everyone at a distance turned out to be something that needed to be done, and Five didn't mind the sacrifice all that much - kind looks and gentle touches were intolerable and made him feel so painfully uncomfortable that he was relieved avoiding them was a matter of duty.

And when a young Five mastered his quick wit, he didn't hesitate to use it to build even higher walls around himself - casually biting out clever (and often deeply hurtful) insults at his siblings before that forbidden _want_ got a chance to take hold of him.

He became meaner, and (most of) his siblings stopped trying.

He became less of a brother and more of a teammate, and other than a lingering sense of hurt he couldn't shake off, Five saw no practical issues with that unofficial relabelling. It was easier to resist the temptation of intimacy when no one was offering it.

\--

There was no one to be mean to in the future. No smiles to sneer at, no hands to flinch away from, no kind words to respond to with an arrogant scoff or a cruel joke.

And then there was Dolores.

By the time he met her, his sharp wit had already begun to fade, chipped away by the unavoidable insanity that came with the endless loneliness. And so she was quicker than him-- cleverer, so much cleverer, more observant, more patient. He would never tell her he thought so out loud, but she knew. If he knew it, she knew it.

There was never a point in evading her probing questions, a smile in her voice always indicating she already knew the answer anyway. No point in hiding from her eyes that saw right through him. The shame still burned like it had with his siblings all those years back, but he pushed through it, he survived the fall each time-- Dolores stayed and never stopped loving him. She knew him in his entirety, had witnessed the depth of his ugliness many times, and she stayed anyway. Granted, there weren't that many options those days, but still. She stayed. He had shown himself to her and she stayed.

With no more family to protect, no one to be strong for, he let himself finally quench his lifelong thirst for love.

But even with her, physical touch had been a challenge. Of course, she never touched him on her own initiative, and it took a mental breakdown on his part for him to allow himself to really seek comfort with her, to wrap himself around her and let himself feel the pressure of her bony body pressing into his.

And sometimes - maybe just a handful of times throughout his time in the future - when he wept and his body would shake _just so_ , the hand on his back came alive and moved up and down his back in a gentle, comforting rhythm.

He would, of course, avoid Dolores for days after such an incident, as the feeling lingered-- a slow, gentle hand on his back, going up and down, up and down, up and down, and a soft voice murmuring into his ear. The shame threatened to burn a hole through his chest, and Dolores' knowing gaze was like gasoline, making him snap at her with a venom that surprised him more than her.

It was exactly the reaction Dolores expected, which is why she only ever treated him that way-- like some fragile, _delicate_ thing that needed help-- when things were really bad. Bad like not being sure you could handle another day of existing (Dolores knew, of course, she always knew). Bad like actually giving up so completely as to allow yourself to be so unimaginably pathetic.

But Dolores, always one step ahead in her infinite wisdom, knew that the shame of accepting her comfort was a worthy sacrifice, because the benefits were the continuation of both of their existences. When the shame faded, the memory of the touch kept him going for years. 

\--

Over his years in the Commission, human contact came to mean pain. Danger, violence, death. He had to fight the urge to recoil every time he couldn't eliminate a mark without touching them.

 _Come on, you old bastard,_ Five told himself, his grip tightening around the man's neck as he forced himself to hold on longer than was strictly necessary, and not blinking to somewhere from where the man couldn't paw at him and beat his fists against his chest and arms. _It's practice,_ _for when you get back to them._

The man finally slumped to the ground, and Five let out an annoyed sigh as he traced his fingers over a bleeding cut on his forearm. It was shit practice, he was aware of that. His siblings wouldn't break his skin, they would probably... wrap their arms around him, or something like that.

Five shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut and jerking his head once, trying to get rid of the image that made his chest hurt more than the freshly forming bruises that covered it.

He clenched his jaw in irritation, anger washing over him in waves. He kicked the dead body in the stomach, only to realize it apparently wasn't quite as dead as his distracted mind had imagined, so he continued kicking until it was.

\- -

Everything he did now, he did to get back home. A possibility he had long ago abandoned was now within his reach. And Five would do anything, _anything_ to get it. Leave Dolores behind. Stand still when the Handler's thin hand and long fingers caressed his freshly shaven cheek. Watch a young girl sob and beg, then blow her head clean off her small shoulders. Anything.

In the beginning, he could do it because none of it seemed real. It was months, maybe years later, when his body count was already in the thousands, that the feeling creeped up on him. These were people, real people, like the ones that had existed before the end of the world.

Of course, he had always been aware that they were real people, much in the same way that he had always been aware that Dolores _wasn't._ Which is to say _completely_ , but in a much more real sense, _not at all_. And so the first time it happened, the first time he truly comprehended, truly felt the _realness_ of his victims, it was already too late.

He no longer had the capacity to give a shit.

\--

It wasn't long before that morphed into something infinitely worse, something truly monstrous. If Dolores were there, she never would have allowed it to happen. But she wasn't. She hadn't been for a long time. Here, free from the apocalyptic hellscape, surrounded by real, living people, Five was more alone than ever before. There was no one to stop the evolution of his rotten soul.

It began to feel... good. All of it-- the hunt, the attack, the kill. Five doesn't know when it happened. It felt like merely days had passed since he had been plucked from the burned down world. Like he blinked and went from sobbing in Dolores' embrace to having to floss brain matter from between his teeth because he had slashed through his marks with a manic grin wide enough for chunks of flesh to get stuck there.

His work was all he had now, Five reasoned with himself, and he had to go through with it for his family. Besides, these were jobs that needed to be done one way or another- at least according to the Commission - and it hardly made any difference to anyone if he enjoyed himself or not.

\--

It turned out he had put himself through all that preparation for no reason, because nobody tried to hug him when he came back. Nobody did much of anything.

 _Right_ , Five thought to himself, ignoring the embarrassment that threatened to morph smoothly into anger. _Good, actually._ So he underestimated his idiot siblings. Apparently they were capable of going straight to business after all. 

He pushed down the images of their corpses and focused on his peanut butter marshmallow sandwich, answering a selective few of their many idiotic questions and trying to keep his irritation to a minimum. The smell of the sandwich tickled his brain, teasing him, daring him to follow the olfactory memory back to his childhood days.

That and the sound of his siblings' voices, still recognizable even after all these years, already laced with irritation at his rudeness, was nearly enough to make Five vomit all over his childhood kitchen table.

He really thought they would... what? Cry at the sight of him? Rush in to hug him, too overwhelmed with joy over his return to remember he'd just blink away before any of them got too close? He really thought their love would be so unavoidable, their desire to comfort their long lost brother so strong that he would inevitably have to suffer through some sort of physically intimate moment? So inevitable that he thought he had to prepare? To _practice_ with his victims?

It was beyond embarrassing. If any of his siblings had a mind-reading power, Five would sooner leave a hole in their head than the knowledge of his assumptions.

\--

"They hate me," Vanya had said.

"There are worse things that can happen."

Like everyone being too dead to hate you.

Or waiting to come back to them for 45 years only to realize you've somehow forgotten that your family never really liked you anyway, and that your return wasn't worth more than some short lived confusion.

\--

"Do you even know how to drive?"

"I know how to do everything."

Like take out a couple of guys in a diner.

And it felt _good_. Familiar. Comforting. Far better than the hug he had fearfully anticipated but never got.

\--

One apocalypse and a half later, the Handler's were still the only (deceptively) gentle touches he had received. They felt different in this body-- much worse, somehow.

He slashed through the Board gleefully with a deeply satisfying pleasure he had nearly forgotten. After weeks (that felt like years) of holding back, he felt entitled to allow artistic freedom to influence his otherwise very efficient and pragmatic tactics. 

It was like a well-earned, desperately needed vacation from the endless days of controlling his anger around his family (they were so _fragile_ , they were _children_ , stupid, naive, _ungrateful_ \--).

Constantly reminding himself that they had no agenda against him took up valuable time and space in his brain that should have been spent on stopping the second apocalypse, especially since his body refused to accept the theory anyway, always tensing up and getting ready for a fight whenever one of them accidentally brushed against him or reached out too suddenly. He was used to everyone being the enemy.

The Handler wiped at the blood on his face in mock gentleness, and Five wondered if his family's touch would even feel any different. Could he really accept true gentleness from his family, and not only Dolores?

Maybe he no longer had the ability at all. Maybe it would feel exactly like the Handler's.

\--

He's 60 years old before he finds out.

The cake says 16 and he stares at it, sipping at his whiskey and tuning out the noise and loud laughter from his siblings as they all cheer on a drunk, dancing Luther.

Sixteen. He had just gotten the fathom stench of rotting corpses out of his nose by the time he was sixteen the first time around. All the flesh had decayed years ago, of course, but that sort of stench could linger for years in your brain, and if it lingered in your brain, it lingered in your nose. Like decades-old touches could linger on your skin.

Those first few years in the Apocalypse stretched on forever, but this time, they passed in the blink of an eye. It felt like barely any time at all had passed since they returned home safely, with no impending doom hanging over them.

His siblings, however, seem to be of the opinion that two (or was it three? four?) years was plenty of time for someone to recover from _nearly half a century_ of trauma.

"Come on, Five. We all have to sing it, otherwise it's like we're all just singing _you_ Happy birthday."

"It _is_ my birthday," Five grits out.

"It's _our_ birthday," Luther corrects him with a tone that makes Five's eye twitch with irritation.

He lets out a growl and twists away in his stool, hiding his face from their stares. Nobody has sang Happy Birthday to him in nearly fifty years. He doesn't owe them shit. The dimwits wouldn't even be _alive_ to celebrate right now if it wasn't for him.

"Five's still a dick, that's comforting," Diego says with a mocking laugh. "Uh, you're sixteen now, Five, maybe it's time to finally grow up."

Yes, Five is still a dick, and always will be. A dog much too old to be taught new tricks. They all seemed to be under the impression that he really was sixteen, that he didn't exist in those years he was missing from their lives, let alone the extra decades their pea brains couldn't even comprehend. They thought he still had _growing up_ to do, that he was still developing as a person, when really Five was barely a person at all anymore. He was empty, barren, hollowed out, there was nothing to _develop_ except his rage and cruelty and the percision with which he carried out violent tasks. But now that he was neither working for nor fighting against the Commision, those were not only unnecessary traits to have, they were _undesired_.

He was not only useless to his family, but unwanted as well. The knowledge did nothing to keep his anger at bay.

"It's comforting to know your IQ's stayed the same for the past twenty years. Maybe if you stopped _pestering_ me with your childish bullshit I wouldn't have to be a dick at all, so why don't you do us all a favor and leave me the fuck alone, you moron."

"Come on, you two..." Allison sighs.

"Oh, us two? Really? You all gonna pretend like this is just me?" Diego says, looking around at everyone. "Like it doesn't bother you that he _constantly_ insults us and tries to ruin every f-fucking get-together? We barely see each other and when we do, we gotta put up with this shit _every time_?"

Five's knuckles are turning white around the glass, tiny vibrations shaking the brown liquid inside like the beginning of an earthquake. Allison says something he doesn't hear over the pounding in his head, but Diego's voice cuts through like thunder.

"What, I can't call him out on his shitty attitude? After all the shit he's said to _us_? To _all_ of us," he emphasizes, giving Vanya a pointed look.

Five can see Vanya drop her head in silence from the corner of his eye, and he isn't sure he's still breathing.

"How can you be sixty years old and even worse of an ass that you were at thirteen? _Jesus_."

For a moment, Five feels like he's about to burst into hysterical laughter. There's a strange, sickly sweet sensation spreading through his body, an eery sense of satisfaction and relief. The sort of relief you feel when the worst scenario you've imagined really does come true and leaves nothing more to fear.

Like your family loathing you.

Like burying your family with your bare hands at thirteen, breathing ash and eating bugs for decades, becoming a ruthless killing machine, all just to save them, to come back to them, finally, finally, _finally_ coming back to them, after 45 years of living a life not worth living, for _them_. All of it, for them. Just to come back and realize that they- they--

How could he have forgotten? They _never_ liked him. And Diego was right, he _was_ worse now-- they had no idea how much worse.

But it's always been for them, all of it. He had to be strong for _them_. Being strong meant being able to protect your family, and being weak meant endangering them-- that was a lesson from their father only Five seemed to truly take to heart. Luther thought he had, but he wore his heart on his sleave like the bumbling idiot he was, never realizing that that was the worst weakness of them all.

Five thought he hadn't been as good at hiding the love he had felt for his family at thirteen as he had imagined himself to be, at the time, but what if he _had_ been that good? What if they never saw through it?

What if Vanya never understood him at all, and he had only imagined it? Countless sleepless nights spent jumping through locations for hours until he was too exhausted to keep his eyes open, all so he could fall asleep without replaying some recent conversation he and Vanya had had where he said more than he should have, slipped up and revealed just a sliver too much, or allowed Vanya to wrap her small arms around him, knowing he could blink out of there but chose not to, knowing _Vanya_ knew he could but chose not to... Had all that worrying been for nothing? Was she not as observant as he thought she was?

What if Klaus wasn't laughing at Five's jokes, but _at him_? What if Ben was just forcing himself to make it through the conversations Five remembers with a fondness he shouldn't allow himself?

What if none of them would have wept as pathetically as he had if they had to bury _him_ in the apocalypse?

"You miss the apocalypse so much, why don't you just jump back again? You act like you miss us being dead anyway."

It's like his mind splits the moment it registers the words-- someone, some other person inside of him, feels a rush of panic and fear. Fear of what Five might do to Diego in the following seconds, when the simmering rage in the pit of his stomach comes to a full boil and explodes out of him.

White blue sparks are already forming around the tips of his fingers, his mind working out the math in a millisecond, and he can almost feel the corners of his mouth being pulled into a murderous grin. The rage consumes him and his violent urge feels righteous. 

But then Vanya is suddenly standing in front of him, her terrifyingly white eyes as burning cold as her skin when she wraps her fingers tightly around his wrists. He jerks his head down just in time to see a glow spread out and around their hands, and it feels like a kick to the stomach when the spacetime fabric is forcibly ripped from his fingers, Vanya's vibrating energy extingushing the blue sparks of his own power.

When the white fades from her eyes, the sadness in them is blinding. Then his wrists are finally free, but moments later, every muscle in his body tenses as Vanya's body is suddenly pressed against his, arms wrapping around his frame easily, making him feel impossibly small.

Breath leaves her lungs forcefully when he pushes against her ribcage, ripping himself away from her grip violently.

His heart pounds, blood pulsing painfully in his head. He sees her feet move, taking a step towards him, and his shaky hands shoot up before he stumbles back a few feet.

He can't handle her touching him again, not with that look in her eyes, not with her soft gentle hands, not with her love and kindness, not again, not _here_ , in front of _everyone_ , where they can all see him fall apart, see how pathetic he really is, how needy and weak.

Panic burns through him, twisting his stomach and making his throat swell up as he realizes there is no way he's capable of staying in control. His hands tighten into fists as he summons up his power, reaching out with it to grip against the fabric of the universe. If- if she touches him, if she stops him, he'll- he'll kill her, he'll kill every last one of them before he--

He blinks and they're gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Previously on..._
> 
> **CHAPTER 1 RECAP:** We explore Five's childhood and his avoidance of touch and intimacy, his relationship with Dolores in the Apocalypse, and how his reluctance to be touched worsened over the years in the Commission, even as his enjoyment of killing grew.
> 
> We see Five practice touching and being touched with his victims (not quite as creepy as it sounds) to prepare for when he gets back to his family, expecting them to... hug him? Oops, nobody does.
> 
> We skip ahead ~two years to their birthday party. Alcohol and Diego's remarks send Five down memory lane and he considers the option that none of his siblings ever loved him (or understood that he loved them).
> 
> When Diego steps over the line with his bullying, Vanya has to stop Five from reacting violently. He reacts badly to being touched by her, and even worse to then being hugged, and he blinks away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the comments, I love hearing what you guys think!

Days (weeks?) pass by, seemingly morphing into one. Time passes differently when you're sixty, and even more so when you're a sixty-year-old time-traveller.

Five never told any of them where he lives - not that any of them have ever insisted he do so - and so he can't quite keep the shock from his reaction the night he returns to his apartment to find Vanya sitting in the hallway, her back against the wall, looking like she's been waiting for hours.

_Great,_ he thinks. _Just what I fucking needed_.

He recovers before she can notice, schooling his expression back into a relaxed, neutral one, and going straight for the door with a confident (and only slightly wobbly) stride, his signature air of nonchalance following him.

"What can I do for you, Vanya?"

She doesn't manage to control her reaction quite as masterfully-- he can see the relief wash over her, her muscles relaxing and face brightening.

Love comes so naturally to her. It's exhausting to be around her sometimes.

She doesn't say anything as she picks herself up, dusting off her pants and grabbing the empty coffee cup from the floor.

They stand there, staring at each other, Vanya fumbling nervously with her cup and worrying her lip, Five looking deceptively relaxed with one hand firmly on the door handle, keeping himself grounded.

"Do you mind if I come in for a minute?" she asks, failing to sound as casual as she was no doubt going for.

Vanya has always been timid, but she learned to be even more reserved when dealing with Five. He couldn't blame her for being cautious around him, it was perfectly logical to want to avoid his easily provoked lashing out or fleeing, but it still irritated him to no end.

To see her be so careful with him, choosing her words, purposefully avoiding physical proximity... It's as if she thinks _he_ 's the fragile one.

He lifts his arm to show her the nearly empty bottle of whiskey in his hand and grins. "I'm kind of in the middle of something."

She watches him for a moment before a small smile appears on her face, and she moves her fingers to pop the lid off her coffee cup, turning it upside down in her hand to demonstrate its emptiness.

"Guess I'm in luck then?" she asks, her voice teasing as she holds his gaze.

He rolls his eyes and turns around to unlock the door and hide the hint of a smile.

\--

They finish off the bottle and nearly half a new one before Vanya finally gathers up the courage to address the elephant in the room.

Five is starting to look almost relaxed after nearly two hours of mostly comfortable silence with interludes of easy conversation, and Vanya thinks it would feel a lot like a betrayal to ruin what is probably a rare moment of peace in Five's life. He's allowed himself to hope Vanya might not breach the subject at all, tension nearly gone from his muscles as he slumps comfortably in the armchair.

But Vanya can't do it. She can't ignore it again.

She's been pretending for Five's sake for too long. Pretending she believes every 'I'm fine' that's spat at her, pretending not to notice a flinch, or a smile that's a little too fond, or the dark circles under his eyes, or an honest laugh he didn't mean to let out, or unexplained bruises and blood stains on his clothes.

That's the reason Five tolerates seeing her more than just on special occasions, unlike the rest of the family, who either don't bother or don't know how to be more careful with Five.

Last woman standing. Careful was exactly what she needed to be right now.

"Five..." she starts and it's just a shade too soft, too gentle, and he notices, he can tell immediately, going rigid in his armchair on the other side of the table.

_Please don't_ , she begs silently as she feels herself already starting to panic, _please don't jump, don't disappear again_.

She tries again but the alcohol won't let her keep the emotion out of her voice. "Five, I... I--"

" _Don't_ ," he grits out. Even in the dim light she can see that he's clenching his jaw painfully, fingers digging into the arms of his chair. "This isn't going to _help_ , Vanya."

She takes a deep breath, pressing her lips together on the exhale.

"You don't even know what I was going to say," she retorts, challenging him, knowing an argument is more likely to keep him here than what she really wants to say. That she loves him. That she missed him. That she can't lose him again. But she couldn't seem to figure out how to say those words in a way that Five would actually _hear_ \-- he made it _impossible_.

Five seems to regain his composure in the blink of an eye, leaning towards her in his chair and resting his elbows on his knees as he looks directly into her eyes.

"And let's keep it that way, shall we?" he returns smoothly, a patronizing smile stretching his lips.

What does she say? What the hell does she say? It's been nearly three years and she still can't figure him out, doesn't know how to give him what he needs.

"Stop overthinking, Vanya," he interrupts her thoughts in an unnecessarily loud voice and her eyes jump back to him. "I survived your apocalypse, you're not going to break me with a wrong word."

She can't help but think _'Oh, really?',_ wondering if Five knows just how scared he could look when he thought she was about to say a 'wrong word'. He is entirely breakable and it terrifies him.

Five can either read thoughts, or she is too drunk to keep the reaction from her expression. His mocking smile turns into a sneer.

"What do I have to do to prove to you fucking idiots that I'm not a _child_? You know the things I've done. What I've survived. Why can't you--"

"Yes, I _do_ know, Five!" she interrupts him with a sudden desperate cry. "That's exactly why! After all that you've been through, I-I can't--"

She shakes her head, struggling to take a deep breath and calm down. Her eyes water when she recalls even a handful of the things she knows about Five's life.

"I can't even imagine how much-- how much you must _need_ it, to be able to finally count on someone, to know that we _love you,_ Five--"

He slams his palms against the glass table and she jumps, feeling her power concentrate itself around the vibrations in the air as the loud bang echoes through the room before dissipating.

It was the wrong thing to say. Of course it was the wrong thing to say, what the hell is she _doing_?

Five seems just as surprised by his reaction, looking stricken as he stares at her, hands still flat on the table. Then his eyes flicker away in embarrassment before it morphs into shame and finally solidifying as anger as he looks up sharply.

"I haven't _needed_ anyone since the day I learned how to wipe my own ass," he hisses, pushing himself out of the chair. "What I need from _you_ is for you to _not_ create a nightmare world for me to live in for forty years," he says with a venom that makes her heart clench, an invisible weight pulling at the corners of her lips. "But it's a little late for that."

"I'm sorry," she says automatically, bowing her head. The guilt over what she had done is still alive and strong. The fact that they were now living in a different timeline didn't change what had happened.

Five seems to immediately recognize the change in her - the sudden meekness an unintentional display of retreat and submission on her part. With a few smooth strides he's around the table, smiling down at her like a hyena at a mouse.

"I know dad used to say time travel could mess with one's memory but I swear I don't remember you being the family idiot, Vanya," he says from above her in a teasing voice before slowly bending his knees to sink down to her level.

He looks like he's in his element. His posture is perfectly relaxed in the squat, his arms crossed against his knees, chin resting comfortably on his forearms as he looks at her in faux confusion.

"How can it be that _everyone_ in the family was able to understand my wish to be left alone, and sensible enough to respect it..." he squints his eyes at her and smiles "...except you, Vanya?"

He frowns, pursing his lips as if in deep thought. "Or maybe..." he says, as if something just dawned on him. "Maybe it's just that you're the only one who thinks you can come swinging a baseball bat into a hornet's nest and not get stung. And that..." he lets out a laugh, and they're close enough now for her to feel the air move. "Well..." he says with a smile, and there's something unnerving about it, something incredibly unsettling about the way it clashes with the barely contained violence flashing behind his eyes, "...that would _still_ make you the family idiot."

And _oh_ , Vanya thinks, _it's... a threat. He's threatening me._

The thought of Five hurting her - or any of his other brothers or sister - exists as a possibility in Vanya's head for half a second, and it's only because the whiskey is slowing her down. When her brain catches up, she almost feels like laughing.

"Five, I know you won't hurt me." And the others know it too, don't they? They're not avoiding Five because they're _afraid_ of him, are they?

"No..." he says slowly, like he really does think she's an idiot. " _I_ know that. _You_ , on the other hand... can't really be sure," he finishes as he leans a little closer, his smile now a wide grin. "Can you?"

"Just like you can't be," she says in a moment of drunken clarity. "Just like you can't be sure that I really love you."

He blinks at her, smile falling from his face and leaving behind apparent surprise.

Vanya finally sees an opening, and she grabs at the opportunity before she can fully consider what she's doing. Both her hands shoot out, landing over Five's with a loud smack where they're resting on his knees.

"I missed you, Five," she says quickly, urgently, fingers wrapping around his own. "I missed you and I _love you_ , we all--"

She nearly falls out of her chair, her hands dropping through empty air when her brother disappears in a flash of blue light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Previously on..._
> 
> **CHAPTER 2 RECAP:** (A Vanya POV) Vanya's post-birthday visit to Five's apartment goes surprisingly well until it doesn't. Too drunk to breach the subject subtly enough, Vanya ends up doing a bunch of foolish things like telling Five they love him and accussing him of _needing_ people (oof, Vanya, come on). Five reacts by threatening her, though she doesn't buy it. He blinks out after Vanya touches him, _again_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alcohol abuse and violence ahead.
> 
> Wow I think I actually like this chapter!! Hope it's your jam too! I appareciate your comments <3

Five opens the door and, much to Luther's surprise, it doesn't take more than a few seconds for the annoyed look to melt away and leave behind an uncharacteristically mellow and tired-looking Five.

"Huh. Weird choice," Five says before turning around and dragging his feet to the armchair, slumping into it ungracefully.

"Isn't it a little early for... that?" Luther asks with his usual lack of tact, pointing a gloved finger at the glass Five's nursing. Five says nothing and Luther reluctantly makes his way inside, seeing Five's apartment for the first time. "And aren't you a little too-"

"If you say I'm too young to be drinking I'm going to punch your eyeballs through your skull."

Luther grimaces. "But your body _is_ sixteen, Five. And alcohol can affect your... uh, you know, your development. You know how dad was always trying to tell us that-"

"I don't care what _you_ think Dad tried to tell us," Five grits out, Luther's words turning out to be enough to rile him up even in his exhausted and possibly (' _definitely_ ,' he hears Dolores' voice correct him) depressed state.

"Well, the last time you ignored dad's advice, you-"

Glass smashes against the wall behind Luther's head. "Dad should've injected the gorilla serum into your brain, maybe it would've made you smarter."

Luther clenches his jaw, visibly forcing himself to relax-- it's clear he believes _he_ 's the adult in the room.

"Look, okay, I shouldn't have said that, alright? We're just-- _I'_ m worried about you, Five. Because I..." Luther trails off, eyes dropping to scan the floor with a dumb frown while Five stares at him. "Because I get it," he finishes, nodding to himself.

Five scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. Luther thinks he _gets it._ It's the best joke Five's heard since his last conversation with Dolores.

"Living in the past, not wanting to let go of your old life..." Luther continues in a faraway voice. "Everyone else moves on... They meet other people, make new families, and you're just... stuck... Your whole world still revolves around the same person it has for-"

"You think my world revolves around a half-ape with daddy issues?" Five snaps nastily, the anger that surges to life inside him enough to break apart the clouds of melancholy again. "Or any other of you _imbeciles_?"

"What? No, I-- Oh. I didn't- I mean I wasn't-"

"It took you all seventeen years to forget me, you think I couldn't manage to forget six useless idiots in _forty-five_?"

" _Five_ -"

Five raises his hand sharply, more to stop himself than Luther. "It's fine," he forces out through his teeth. "Why are you here?"

"There's..." Luther starts, looking unsure. "There's a mission," he says, swallowing heavily. "It's important."

There's a momentary stab of hurt Five feels before he's relieved. Not only will this not involve further discussing anyone's feelings, it will very likely involve bloodshed.

He relaxes back into his armchair.

"Well?" he snaps after a few beats of silence, then motions for Luther to sit with a reluctant wave of his hand. "I don't have all day, Number One."

\--

It turns out the mission really is kinda important. Not with world-ending consequences, but close. The universe must be some kind of idiot if it chose Luther of all people to be the one to stumble across the conspiracy-- a mysterious man, infamous in certain circles due to his unnecessarily cruel and violent techniques with which he was attempting (and so far succeeding) to gain power in the government.

Luckily, Five was more than happy to help and stop the mission from turning into a gigantic failure, as Luther would no doubt manage to achieve one way or another.

He spends the next couple of days in his old bedroom at their childhood home, researching, planning, only leaving in a flash to grab a slice of bread or the n-th cup of coffee. 

It's 10AM on a Saturday when he finally stumbles upon a thick folder of relevant documents among the endless stacks of paper, and at half past three in the morning he's read them cover to cover five times over.

He was missing something.

A knock on the door startles him, an unexpected interruption this late at night, Five thinks, but when he glances at the clock he realizes it's already late morning.

"Fiveeey? You decent in there, you dirty old man? I'm coming in." The handle moves, but the door doesn't budge.

"What is it?" he tries to bite out but his voice cracks from lack of use and exhaustion. Needing rest was annoying.

"Brought you some coffeee," Klaus sings. "And I wanna help with the- the-- whatever it is you're doing."

Five's at the door in a few long strides, swinging it open. His brother, who clearly hadn't been expecting Five to give in this easily, widens his eyes in surprise and opens his mouth to speak. Five snatches the cup from Klaus' fingers before he can get a word out, slamming the door in his face.

"Wow. Okay," comes the muffled voice from the other side of the door. "Five, come on, let-- I'm being _serious_ , I can _help_!"

"I'm doing research, Klaus. There's so many variables to consider, your brain would boil. Can you even _read_?"

"Okay, ha ha, Klaus the stupid junkie, we get it, stop recycling old material, bro," Klaus yells back with an annoyed laugh. "Now can you please unlock the door so I can tell you why the white cadillac went past that gas station _twice_?"

The door swings open.

" _Three_ times, but how did you know that?"

Klaus raises an eyebrow playfully, opening his arms. "I _am_ the prophet."

Five frowns, then huffs out a laugh. "Ben," he says with a nod, a light smile tugging at his lips. Klaus glances over Five's shoulder then, and Five follows his gaze to the unoccupied armchair behind him.

Five supposes he wouldn't mind some input from Ben. He could often be quite insightful as a child. 

"Okay," he says at the empty seat. "Why three times?"

\--

Information had to be gathered out in the field too, and though Five did sometimes feel a mild sense of respect for Diego's various skills, there was no way he was going to entrust him with this assignment. Five was too invested in this mission now to trust anyone else with any important part of it, let alone his idiot brother.

Somehow, Allison then manages to convince them that the only option is for them to both go, together. And so they do, their desire to catch the guy they were after stronger than their shared reluctance to spend any prolonged amount of time together.

They've been sitting in the car in silence for a couple of hours, Five going over the information he retreated from the laptop in the house they're staking out, waiting for their target to return.

Diego alternates between staring intensely at the street, eyes sharp as they search for movement in the dark, and tapping a rhythm mindlessly against the wheel, letting out long, dramatic sighs. It isn't quite annoying enough to break Five's resolve-- he isn't going to argue with his brother, he's just going to focus on the mission.

So they each do their own thing, successfully ignoring each other for longer than Five would ever have guessed them capable.

"Guess we're not such a bad team after all, huh?"

"Based on what? The fact that we haven't tried to kill each other yet?"

Diego grins. "Exactly."

Five snorts, but the small smile - illuminated by the blueish light of the computer screen - is hard to miss. "The night's still young, dear brother."

They sit in silence again before Diego speaks up a second time.

"You know, I... I forget sometimes. That you're... That you went through some shit and that, uh..."

Five's fingers twitch against the keyboard, but he's shocked at the lack of irritation he's feeling, the sticky melancholy mood that's been following him since Vanya's visit apparently enough to stifle most sparks of anger before they fully ignite.

"Vanya sit you down for a talk too, huh?"

Diego sends a sharp glare at Five on instinct before realizing there was no challenge in his little older brother's voice.

"Yeah," he says, straightening in his seat to stare at the dark street. "I listened to her though. Did you?"

FIve watches his brother with a small frown, unsure of how to react when neither of them is looking for a fight. Diego seems to be in a similar mood, the nervous twitch that usually pulls at his face whenever Five's around gone and replaced by an uncharacteristic calm as he stares into the distance somberly.

Twisting back to face the laptop again, Five decides to quit while they're both ahead and focuses on the work in front of him.

\--

Five's eyes widen as his mind suddenly comes into focus, and he jumps to the other side of the room to search through a heap of documents, paper flying around him as he digs. He vaguely registers the sound of a liquid pouring from the overturned bottle on the table, but the folders the whiskey is soaking no longer matter.

Five finds the yellow piece of paper at last, fingers grabbing it greedily. He scans it methodically, finding the address quickly.

This is it. The location of the (still unidentified) man they had been looking for.

Five closes his eyes and throws his head back, letting out a long, satisfied sigh. Ahhh... He loves this feeling. Solving a mystery, finishing a puzzle, finally underlining that last number after days of filling walls with equations. 

Five loves the theory, but he also likes to apply it. And if he finds this guy, he's going to apply the shit out of it.

The thought that Ben might be staring down over his shoulder crosses his mind then.

"Don't tell Klaus," he whispers, just in case. "If they show up there, I'm gonna have to worry about their safety as well. It's safer for everyone if I go alone."

He hears Dolores' voice echo from a distance and ignores it.

"Trust me. It's gonna be a walk in the park."

\--

It's not a walk in the park.

Not twenty minutes into the fight, Five realizes with some alarm that he's already getting tired, his body slowed down by a weight that isn't usually there. The jumps a little less precise, improvised weapons missing vital organs by millimetres.

It almost feels like being in his old body again, except back then he never would have allowed the exhaustion to affect his performance this easily. He wouldn't have let it when he was a kid the first the around either, as assured by the special training his father subjected them to at least once a month-- depriving them of food and rest before sending them to rigorous practice, demanding they perform as perfectly as ever, never showing a hint of exhaustion.

The only thing Five struggled with was irritation, his anger difficult enough to keep under control when he was fed and rested, let alone barely standing on his feet, but other than that, he secretly enjoyed the test (especially since he was the only one to have ever passed it).

"Never learned to count your bullets, soldier?" he asks with a smile that feels strangely fond as he remembers his father.

The more life-or-death situations he found himself in, the more he learned to appreciate Reginald's twisted wisdom. His father may not have taught him how to love or achieve anything close to happiness in his life, but he had taught him how to survive. Had given him the tools needed to do so.

Five tears the weapon from the enemy's grip and sends him stumbling to the ground with a quick jab at his nose with the butt of the rifle. He grips the barrel and swings it like a golf bat, hitting the side of the man's face with a loud crack.

The man's jaw moves at an unnatural angle as he lets out a gurgled whine.

"If your weapon has finite ammunition," Five says like he's speaking to a child, turning the rifle in his hands, inspecting it, "you need to keep track. Otherwise..." he says, looking away from the rifle and down at the bloodied figure, lips curving into a patronizing smile, "shit like _this_ happens."

He wraps both his hands around the barrel again, the weapon hanging heavy below his grip, aligned with the man's face.

"Better luck in your next life," he says with a finality, his face growing serious when he lifts his arms and then drops them with a force, the heavy metal colliding with the soldier's teeth. He repeats the motion a couple of times before carelessly discarding the weapon and stepping over the body without sparing it another look.

Like clockwork, six new figures appear from around the corner, apparently not at all put off by the dozen or so massacred comrades they could no doubt see laying around Five's feet as they charge straight at him down the long corridor.

Five almost groans, throwing his head back in exasperation. "Alright, that's it."

He squints his eyes at the rapidly approaching group, forcing his sluggish brain to concentrate. He takes a breath and on the exhale he's gone, reappearing in a flash of blue white light above one of the soldiers and landing on their back, arms locked tightly around the throat before any of them even register his disappearance.

Conjuring up enough power to send them both to a faraway location feels like all the bone marrow is being sucked out of his bones, but he recovers quickly, pain dissipating as soon as they land on the wooden floor of his childhood home with a thud.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW some pretty gross torture/violence, sorry not sorry
> 
> _Previously on..._
> 
> **CHAPTER 3 RECAP:** Luther comes to ask for help with a mission, and Five reluctantly accepts. 
> 
> During these couple of days of research (with help from Ben) and stake outs (with help from Diego), they actually manage to do (a minimal amount of) bonding, mainly thanks to Five feeling melancholic and not-as-aggressive-as-usually (caused by Vanya's visit).
> 
> When he finally figures out the location of a base, Five (of course) doesn't tell anyone and sets out to finish the job alone. 
> 
> It turns out the man they're after isn't there, but a small platoon of soldiers awaits him, and Five struggles through the battle (drinking every day in a 16 year-old body not doing much to prepare him for it).
> 
> He manages to teleport one of the soldiers back to the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, not thrilled with this chapter :'( but I also don't want to keep you guys (or myself) waiting forever.

Klaus fumbled with the door handle at the main entrence, struggling to balance three large paperbags in his arms.

They were filled with groceries Allison had asked ( _ordered_ ) him to get from the store before handing over her thick wallet, filled with an amount of money that made Klaus' eyes sparkle. 

Being handed a wad of cash by one of his siblings felt... weird. A test, maybe. (' _Definitely_ a test,' Ben had said when he saw the wallet's contents).

So Klaus had made sure to save the receipt from the store and slipped it into the wallet along with ( _all_ of) the remaining cash.

Klaus hummed cheerfully as he entered the spacious hallway, congratulating himself for a job well done-- actually, _two_ jobs well done: opening the door without dropping anything _and_ not exchanging his sister's hollywood money for any happiness-inducing substances.

Ben joined in at the chorus, humming the _yeah_ s to Klaus' _everybody_ and _rock your body,_ but their duet was cut short by a high-pitched scream that echoed from around the corner.

They both froze, then turned to look at each other. Ben raised his eyebrows pointedly, nudging his chin in the direction of the distressed voice, silently communicating 'what the hell are you waiting for, let's _go_!'

Klaus dropped the bags by the door quickly, then hurried around the corner after Ben, nearly bumping into Luther's infinitely broad back. Allison was standing next to him, her back visibly tense.

He tilted his neck to peek between his two siblings.

There was a skinned animal corpse hanging from the ceiling, covered in blood that had already formed a large pool beneath it, hooks piercing it at the... shoulders?

The animal's body twitched suddenly, rattling the chains.

Oh, it... wasn't dead. Klaus blinked once, twice, focused his gaze again. It... wasn't an animal either.

"Jesus _christ_ , Five," Luther's voice startled him. "Have you _lost your mind_?"

"Oh, give me a break, Luther."

Klaus' eyes were still glued on the hanging figure. He struggled to find it's face, finally managing to locate the whites of the man's eyes in the bloodied mess, only to find them staring directly at him.

Suddenly, he noticed that Ben was standing right there, next to the half-dead figure, leaning in even closer still to bring his ear next to the man's mouth.

Ben's face twisted in horror, his eyes shooting up to look at Klaus. "He's saying ' _help me_ ', Klaus!" he cried out, and Klaus felt the hairs on his arms stand up.

"This isn't right, Five," came Allison's determined but slightly trembling voice. "You need to let him go."

"Don't be naive," Five scoffed. "He has information that could potentially save millions of people. You think they care _how_ we get it?"

Klaus finally turned to look at his little brother for the first time since he'd joined this shitshow. The boy looked... like Five. Same way he always looked. Hands in his pockets, the smirk on his face twitching with annoyance he never bothered to hide, happy to let everyone around him know what a terrible nuisance they were.

The only difference was, he looked like he'd just fought an army. His clothes were torn and spattered with blood from all angles, his legs and face littered with nasty cuts. And - probably despite his best efforts to hide it - he looked like he was about to collapse.

"You need to let him go," Allison repeated, this time with a threat to her voice that seemed to make Five pause for a moment.

The slight tremors running through him became visible in the stillness, but being threatened seemed to be exactly what he needed to wake up from his exhaustion. The usual sharpness returned to his eyes with a blink and he levelled Allison with a look, smiling slowly. "You know what? You're right."

He twisted on his heels, turning to the man they'd been talking about. Klaus saw Ben's head snap in the pair's direction and yelling out ' _No!_ ' uselessly, plunging himself at and through Five, in no way affecting the boy's movements.

Klaus felt glued to the ground as he watched Five calmly place his hands on the hanging man's hips, gripping hard against the slippery blood, before pulling down with a forceful tug.

The chains rattled loudly and the man dropped into the puddle of blood with an inhuman scream.

Luther tensed and Allison jumped back, her hands flying up to cover her mouth. Klaus tore his eyes away and squeezed them shut, swallowing down bile. 

"There," came Five's cheerful voice, barely audible over the moans of pain. "Happy?"

Allison, who had finally recovered from the shock, suddenly took a step forward. " ** _I heard_** \--"

Five disappeared before their eyes and reappeared in front of Allison before any of them registered what was happening. He came stumbling out of the blue portal, slamming into Allison, sending her stumbling backwards until she hit a wall with a thud.

" _FIVE_!" Luther's deep voice echoed through the room as he reached out towards Five, but his small brother blinked out and back to the bloodier part of the room before the large hands got a chance to grab him.

Five had to grip the chains to steady himself after the second landing, wobbling on his feet for a moment before straightening himself. His cool and unaffected demeanor now gone completely, he stood there breathing heavily, clenching his fists as he stared at his three family members with a look that made Klaus take a step back despite already being the one furthest in the back.

"Try that again and you're next," Five spat at her with barely contained rage, lifting a shaking hand to point at the bloodied hooks.

Apparently satisfied with Alison's reaction, he turned his back to them and stalked back to his prey, sliding his hands back in his pockets when he came to a stop, towering over the man.

"Did you see that?" he asked, voice almost casual again. "My dear siblings here seem to think you're some sort of _victim_ ," he spat the word and the man flinched. "A victim... who _volunteered_ to work for a power-hungry fascist. To kill innocents for him," Five continued, his voice rising in volume. "To suffer through this amount of torture just to protect his genocidal plans."

With no warning, he bent over swiftly, grabbing the bloody hair and twisting the head up with one hand, the other reaching behind the man's back to grab and twist at the freshly massacred flesh, eliciting another choked moan of pain from the barely conscious man.

Allison made to step forward again but Luther's firm hand on her arm stopped her. Klaus' heart was beating out of his chest.

"Your stories sound kinda similar though?"

After a beat of silence, everyone suddenly turned to look at Klaus.

He opened his mouth, then closed it, turning to Ben to find he was also staring at him.

What? Did _he_ say that?

Five looked unhinged for a moment, nostrils flaring and jaw working furiously as he stared at Klaus. He dropped the man and turned to face his brother, trying but failing to look unaffected as his body trembled with rage from head to toe.

" _I_ needed to save the fucking world. You wanna _hang me_ for that," he spat before his angry grimace melted into a dangerous smirk, "you're _very_ welcome to try, Klaus."

"This isn't the right way to do it!" Ben cried out next to Klaus. " _Tell him!_ "

"This- this isn't the right way to do it," Klaus repeated robotically, much less passion and conviction to his words than in Ben's version. But to his defense, _Ben_ wasn't the one who was about to get his ass kicked by a world renowned assassin. _Ben_ wasn't currently on the receiving end of a look brimming with bloodlust.

" _Any_ way that _gets it done_ is the right way to do it, _idiot,_ " Five bit out, voice laced with venom. "You'd see that if you hadn't melted your brain into a useless crackhead puddle," he spat with a hatred that surprised Klaus, and when the assassin's fingers twitched by his sides, Klaus couldn't hold back a flinch.

It was a little terrifying - and always had been - that distance didn't mean safety when it came to Five. Just because they were currently standing several feet apart didn't mean Klaus couldn't find himself hanging from those hooks in the blink of an eye. 

"Come on, man," Klaus said with a light chuckle, but nobody missed how unusually quiet and cautious he sounded. "Are we any better than them if we do shit like this?"

Ben was speaking urgently in the background, but Klaus couldn't focus on anything but Five's murderous stare. He willed himself to keep his mouth shut, but it just wasn't in his nature to _not_ dig a deeper hole for himself.

"What if, uh... What if they threatened his family, or something?" he blurted out, not sure where the idea had come from.

To his surprise, Five's anger actually seemed to waver, his face growing more serious.

"Then that's too bad," Five said, voice quieter. Nobody moved as the two brothers watched each other silently.

Five sighed then, dropping his eyes and rolling his shoulders. He turned his head to the side to look down at the man on the floor.

"I've been on the receiving end of this too, once or twice. For trying to get my family back," he said with a thoughtful frown. 

The bloody mess on the floor moved, twisting its head to look up at Five. The mouth moved slowly, the dried blood cracking and flaking as he let out a groan that sounded vaguely like _please._

Five's mouth twisted with disdain. "Never begged this pathetically, though."

He lifted his leg back suddenly and kicked the man's head with unrestrained force that seemed to knock him right out.

Allison tore her arm from where Luther was still gripping her and flung herself towards Five, missing him by a millimetre as he blinked away.

"Alright," came Five's voice from behind them, and they all twisted around to find him leaning heavily against the staircase, his breathing visibly labored. "I'll give you pinheads four hours to get me a location. And when you fail, we'll go back to doing things my way. _Got it_?"

He didn't wait for an answer and clenched his fists again, blue sparks forming around them, then fading.

"Goddammit," Five breathed, squeezing his eyes shut for a second before turning to make his way up the stairs the old-fashioned way. He barely managed to pull himself up the first step, hand gripping the rail like a lifeline. 

When he stumbled on the second step, Ben hurried towards him and Klaus followed on autopilot.

"Do not _test_ me, Klaus," Five bit out without turning around, grip tightening around the rail as he attempted to pull himself up the next step. "I swear to god if any of you touch me I'll..." he wavered, his shaking knees looking dangerously close to buckling, "I'll... gouge your fucking..."

He lifted his right leg not half an inch off the stair before his left knee gave out, bending and sending Five flying backwards, hitting the floor with his head with a loud thud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pleassseee let me know what you thought and if there's anything you'd like me to explore in future chapters, I'm open to suggestions! :)
> 
> For the subscribers: would you find short recaps in future updates useful? Like a 'Previously on'? Or am I the only one here with a brain so fried it can't keep up with more than one fic at a time but is also too lazy to re-read old chapters? lmk please babes :*


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **CHAPTER 4 RECAP:** (A Klaus POV) Klaus and Ben hear a scream upon returning from the store, and they find Luther and Allison trying to stop Five from further torturing the soldier.
> 
> After Five "lets him go" (by tearing him straight off the hooks the soldier had been hanging from), Allison tries to rumor him, but Five stops her with an attack and a threat. 
> 
> Five accuses the soldier of being a fascist sympathizer who kills innocents in an attempt to justify his treatment. But Klaus, to everyone's surprise, points out the story sounds similar to Five's (the Commission), and Five doesn't take it well. Probably prompted by Ben, Klaus quickly explains that there's a possibility that the soldier was forced to do these things by, for example, having his family threatened. That seems to soften Five up just a touch, causing him to remember all the things he himself had to go through to protect his family.
> 
> The moment of weakness doesn't last long as he knocks out the soldier and tells the trio they have four hours to get information before they go back to doing things his way. He tries to blink away but he's too tired, and he only makes it two steps up the stairs before he passes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OIIII WAIT, LISTEN UP!!!! 
> 
> I've added a **RECAP OF ALL PREVIOUS CHAPTERS** in the summary (at the very top!). I think you'll find it helpful if you have a shit memory like me and don't have time to re-read old chapters because there's a dozen other cool fanfics waiting for you in other opened tabs (its ok im not jealous or anything :(( totally not worried people are skimming thru my fic the way i skim through fics or anything, nopeeee i trust yall, 100%)
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chapter and your feedback is ~~REQUIRED~~ welcome as always.

"Yeah, I _know_ , okay? _Jee_ zus. Casper the ghost medic all of a sudden, are we?"

Five woke up to the sound of hushed voices and a strange sensation that was making his skin tingle.

"Will you just let me-- I know how to apply a freaking bandage!"

He quickly worked on focusing his mind, trying to figure out exactly where he was and what was happening without opening his eyes or in any way indicating he'd regained consciousness.

He located several epicenters over his body that were sending out waves of hot pain, but there was... something else. His skin continued to tingle and he surpressed a shiver.

"Will you keep your voice down?!"

He could tell by the sound that whoever was speaking was facing away from him, so Five took a chance and slowly opened his eyes, carefully inspecting his surroundings without moving his head.

Ah, he was in his childhood bedroom.

"Well you're _forcing me_ to match your volume!"

And the voice belonged to Klaus, who seemed to be the only other person in the room, fumbling with the paper packaging of a small item he was holding.

" _No_ I'm not _stalling_ , why would I be stalling? I'm just--"

Klaus spun around on his heels and froze in place when his eyes landed on Five's opened ones.

For a moment he looked ready to flee, the sound of paper crackling filling the silent room as his fist tightened around the gauze bandage roll he was holding. 

The deer-in-headlights look immediately jolted Five's brain into hunter mode, but the adrenaline that saturated his blood in preparation of an attack was quickly washed out by feelings of guilt and shame, which - inevitably - awakened the rage deep in his stomach.

 _Fuck_ Klaus for being afraid of him. Fuck all of them for not fucking _getting it._

He grit his teeth and turned back to the ceiling, closing his eyes and trying to exhale the anger through flaring nostrils.

Not _all_ of it, of course-- anger was, after all, the perfect fuel for keeping oneself awake and alert, the best antidote to exhaustion. And the thought of his siblings being afraid of him when everything he had ever done - his _entire life -_ was to protect them, kept his rage at a perfect simmer.

The breaking of eye contact seemed to snap Klaus out of his trance, and Five's eyes flew open again when his ears detected movement.

"Had us worried there for a second, champ," Klaus said, sounding cautious, but apparently not enough to refrain from using a nickname that made Five's eye twitch with irritation.

"Let me guess. You two dipshits have been standing around here conspiring against me instead of using your time to get useful information."

"Oops, you got us," Klaus said, raising his hands in mock defeat. "We've been _conspiring_ to clean infected wounds you've been ignoring, a truly _evil_ master plan that involves not letting our little bro get gangrene."

Five frowned at the ceiling, his sluggish mind still struggling to return fully to reality. And his _skin_ was still...

"No wonder you're covered in scars if this is how you deal with them," Klaus mumbled, finally ripping open the paper packaging with a long fingernail. "Gotta think about your future, man. Your _sexy_ future. Gonna scare off the ladies looking like a skinnier Edward Scissorhands."

Five couldn't care less how his body _looked_ , didn't give a flying fuck that this still infuriatingly small body was already nearly as littered with marks as his adult one had been after decades of no medical care and years of killing for the Commission. The only time his body had been good for anything but being a weapon was with Dolores, and she was gone now.

His skin tingled again, a cool breeze licking over every wound and scar on his chest and abdomen.

Five's eyes widened and his head shot up and off the bed, bending his neck to look down at his body.

His... pink, bare, uncovered body.

"Don't worry though, I have it on good authority that there are some _veeery_ freaky ladies out--"

"Where's my shirt?"

"Ah, well, er, we didn't think you'd want to wake up with your shirt glued to your body by _puss and blood,_ so... Besides, like I _said_ , we gotta clean those wounds or--"

Klaus' voice was drowned out by the blaring echoes of _dangerdangerdanger_ in Five's head.

He could suddenly feel every molecule of air bump against the soft skin of his bare torso, like a sharp blade tracing old wounds and threatening to reopen them.

His chest was moving sporadically without drawing in any air as he stared down wide-eyed at his small, exposed body, the soft pink skin mocking him, making him clench his jaw so tight he thought it might snap.

" _GIVE ME MY FUCKING CLOTHES_!"

Pain flooded his body as he forced himself into a sitting position in one swift motion, his head snapping to the side and sending Klaus a look so full of violence that it seemed to throw his brother backwards like a punch to the face. His red-rimmed eyes burned as he stared at Klaus without blinking, his fists tightening so hard his skin creaked and his knuckels cracked.

Klaus swallowed visibly, taking yet another step back while keeping his eyes on Five, the humor bleeding from his eyes to be replaced with uncertainty and fear again.

"Okay, big guy," he said with a small, nervous laugh, raising his hands slowly like trying to calm a rabid dog. "Let me just-- the shirt's right there, let me just grab it for ya."

Five could feel his entire face twitching with barely contained rage as he followed Klaus' every move, watching his brother shuffle towards the table and start fumbling with a bag.

"Heeere we go, yep, here it is-- uh, somewhere, it's definitely here, I know I brought it with me," Klaus blabbered while feeling around the contents of the large bag without taking his eyes off Five.

"Aha!" he exclaimed with a painfully forced smile as he pulled out a crisp white shirt. "Now I'll just, uh..." he trailed off, swallowing as he gestured between himself and Five with his hands. "...bring it over to you."

Five continued to watch him aggressively in loud silence, his body like a coiled spring, waiting to unleash his rage at the wrong move.

The wrong move turned out to be the flicker of Klaus' eyes, from Five's face down to his exposed torso.

The energy burst from Five's hands almost on its own accord, pulling him through a portal and sending him stumbling into Klaus.

Five caught a fistful of the shirt just before losing his footing and collapsing to the ground. He had to summon every last drop of strength to lift up his heavy legs and kick Klaus straight between his legs, sending him stumbling back a few feet before doubling over and collapsing onto his knees, hands flying to his crotch as he let out a groan.

" _Fuck_ , Five," he moaned, lowering his forehead to the floor, and Five just barely stopped himself from grabbing him by his long hair and smashing his head into the ground to keep it there, facing safely away from Five's exposed body.

"Don't fucking look at me, asshole," he grunted instead, wondering how the unbearable pain radiating throughout his body hadn't knocked him out cold yet.

He felt like a marionette, being held up by nothing but strings of gut-wrenching fear. Fear that he would pass out like this, naked, exposed, vulnerable, completely at Klaus' mercy with not even a layer of fabric to protect him from his touch.

Klaus let out another dramatic moan and began to move, lifting his head from the ground, and Five clutched the shirt tighter against his chest, panic paralyzing him.

" _Klaus_."

It was such a pathetic, broken sound, so unmistakably _begging_ he might as well have cried _'please'_ , and Klaus froze, his eyes glued to the ground, before he lowered his forehead down again.

Five's clenched hand trembled, the rough fabric of the shirt rubbing painfully against a fresh wound on his chest. He continued to stare at Klaus' kneeling, perfectly unmoving form until his taut muscles relaxed enough to move.

With shaking hands, he just managed to slip the shirt over his head before darkness overtook him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, I know, sorry! Also I gotta stop ending chapters with Five passing out :')
> 
> P.S.: let me know which of the siblings (or other characters) you'd like to see Five interact with more.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Previously on..._
> 
> **CHAPTER 5 RECAP** Five wakes up in his bedroom with Klaus (and Ben), who's preparing to dress his wounds. When he realizes he's not wearing his shirt, he freaks out, and after blinking in his exhausted state, he passes out again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omggg two chapters in one day! Go me!! (i guess it's cheating cause they're both so short)
> 
> A couple of you said you'd like more Diego and Five so here it is!
> 
> Boy I hope this isn't too rushed and I hope you guys are enjoying the story, I'm so scared of disappointing yall ahhhh :')

It was already dark outside when he woke up in his bed the second time. The room was dim, illuminated only by the weak light coming from a small lamp in the corner.

Five got his bearings much quicker this time around, hand shooting up to feel his stomach.

Fabric.

He let out a quiet breath of relief before further examining himself, rubbing his thumb to feel the bandaging beneath the shirt.

That _fucker_. He was going to beat the memory out of Klaus' goddamn head.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty."

Five shot up on his bed, propping himself on one clenched fist while raising the other, ready to swing.

"Okay, slow down there, Cobra Kai," came a laughing voice from the opposite corner Five was facing, and he twisted the other way, squinting his eyes trying to make out the sillhuette.

He blinked his eyes until finally recognizing Diego.

"I'd advise you to get some more rest but we both know where you'd tell me to shove it."

Five sneered but wasted no energy on a vocal reply, focusing instead on moving his legs and sliding them over the edge of bed to sit in a more dignified position while he inspected his body, feeling at his injuries.

Despite what Klaus thought, Five wasn't _reckless--_ couldn't afford to be. Just because he sometimes decided finishing a job was worth risking serious injuries didn't mean he didn't keep track of them. Five was always in control-- he pushed himself over his limits _knowingly_.

Going by what he could deduce from the quick self-inspection with his fingers and the fact that he was no longer feeling like death, it seemed Klaus (or was it Diego? That would doubtlessly be infinitely _worse_ ) had actually done a solid job of cleaning and dressing the worst of his wounds.

There was a fair chance that had Five been alone, he would have bled out or woken up with an infection he couldn't reverse, but that wasn't going to stop him from breaking Klaus' _skull_ , that bastard, how fucking dare he--

"If you let me help you down the stairs, you can come and hear what we found out while you were taking your afternoon nap."

"You're keeping your fucking paws off me unless you wanna take a permanent nap," Five growled, glaring in his brother's direction. "Go get me dad's cane."

* * *

Five stood on the swell step, one hand on the handrail and the other gripping his father's cane as he stared at the scene before him.

The man - the soldier, he assumed - was nearly unrecognizable, skin scrubbed clean of blood and covered with gauze, wearing a shirt so large it couldn't have been anyone but Luther's. Despite the disgusting swelling of his blue and purple face, a smile was tugging at his mouth as Five's siblings cheered him on while he struggled to swallow down whatever Klaus was feeding him.

It was... disorientingly _obscene,_ waking up and walking in on your siblings having family dinner with this... metamorphosed Gregor fucking Samsa, feeding the goddamn vermin as if he were a toddler.

"You've gotta be shitting me," he murmured and Diego laughed.

"Just chill, alright? He's actually a cool guy."

Five turned to his brother, eyebrows raised in disbelief. "A _cool guy_?"

"Yeah," Diego said, face turning a shade more serious. "A cool guy who's done some uncool shit."

Five huffed out a laugh, looking back at the freakshow.

"Come on, you two can bond over it."

Diego started walking towards the kitchen and Five shuffled a few feet behind him with his cane, still obscured from the others' view when he heard Vanya's voice laced with worry.

"How's Five?"

"Coulda come up to see for yourself instead of choo-chooing soup into a terrorist's mouth," he quipped, causing everyone except Diego to freeze in place. Five turned from Vanya to face the quivering soldier, giving him a wide smile. "Hi there."

* * *

Five sat at the table, patiently letting Luther blabber on about everything that had happened. He hadn't taken his eyes off the patched up soldier sitting opposite him, a critical eye taking in every flinch and nervous twich, every flicker of his eyes to this corner or the other.

"Five? Are you even _listening_?"

The sweat that had begun to form on the man's forehead started to run down his temples and into the dips of his eyes.

Five smiled at him.

"So he took Klaus' shot-in-the-dark theory and ran with it, too concussed or just naturally too stupid to come up with a more believable story," Five said, finally speaking, then turned to face Luther with raised eyebrows. "And you bought it?"

"Five, we're not idiots," Diego hissed. "Believe it or not, you're not the only smart guy in the room."

"Oh I'm definitely the only smart _guy_ in the room," he retorted with an unpleasant smile, then turned to face Vanya. "Even with your bleeding heart, you can't really be buying this crap, Vanya."

She shook her head, looking down at the table, then turned to face him with a strange, distant look. "Diego's right, Five. You need to trust us for once."

Yeah, and that was exactly the problem, wasn't it?

"Nevermind," Five told her with a smile. "I forgot you're not the most reliable judge of character."

"We _checked_ , Five, okay?!" Allison nearly yelled. "His story checks out. His family, the blackmail, all of it-- it's all true."

Five grit his jaw, rolling his tight shoulders in his seat before looking sharply at Allison.

" _Who_ checked?"

"All of us, you prick," Diego snarled. "Alright? Do you think that maybe _all of us_ _combined_ managed to match your genius and do simple fact checking, wonderboy?" Diego quipped, fingers probably itching for a knife.

Five snorted. "I sincerely doubt it, but who am I to stop the universe from teaching you morons a lesson."

With that, he pushed himself off the table to stand. "We leave tomorrow morning," he said with authority that demanded no argument and he began to fill an empty plate with bread, peanut butter and sugary snacks, stuffing a coke into his coat pocket. 

He looked at his plate with a thoughtful frown before raising his eyes to the soldier again, eyes brimming with the promise of violence.

"We might not all come back, but _one of us_ definitely will," he said, leaning over the table as much as his injuries allowed, smiling through the pain and baring his teeth at the cowering man. " _Me_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Team Cobra Kai, anyone?


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this is the third update in two days woweeee how unlike me.
> 
> Please leave a comment I am DESPERATE for validation, thank you.

"Someone should stay to look after Bob," Allison said when they were all gathered in the kitchen, getting ready to leave in dramatic pre-battle silence.

"He can barely walk," Diego grunted, re-checking his knives for the tenth time. "He's not going anywhere."

Allison rolled her eyes, sending an annoyed look at her brother's back. "I mean someone needs to _take care_ of him, Diego."

Five let out an open mouthed scoff from where he was leaning against a wall, head tilted back to stare at the ceiling. "You've all lost your fucking minds."

"His injuries are _serious_ , Five. And who knows how long we'll be gone?"

Probably _forever_ since we'll be walking into a trap, Five thought. He let out a long sigh, crossing his arms and closing his eyes.

How? Just... how? Out of all the super children born on that day, how did his father have the bad luck of picking six biggest idiots of the bunch?

"Fine," he said through his teeth. "Vanya stays."

Everyone looked at Vanya as she turned to stare at her older brother.

"Isn't she a little... overqualified to play nurse? We're gonna need her," Diego says, glancing between Five and Vanya.

She nodded. "I wanna go. I wanna help."

"Oh?" Five quirked his eyebrows, rolling his head against the wall to look at his sister. "Then who's gonna read Bob his bedtime story?"

Vanya leveled Five with a look he didn't understand.

"I don't know, Five," she said sharply, voice uncharacteristically biting. "But I agree someone should stay with him," she finished with an accusatory narrowing of her eyes that made Five avert his gaze and turn his head back, swallowing hard against the lump forming in his throat.

"Right," he bit out irritably, pushing himself off the wall and straightening his tie before glancing over at where Klaus was sitting on the floor.

"Klaus," he barked, making his brother jump and drop the shoe he'd been putting on.

"Mm?" the long-haired man hummed without looking at Five, fumbling to pick up his shoe.

"Can you manifest Ben?"

"Err," Klaus replied, eyes shooting up to look at an empty chair. "Yes. Sort of."

"Sort of," Five repeated, waiting for an elaboration, but Klaus just nodded, taking longer than necessary with his shoe and still refusing to look at Five.

"Guys, I'll be fine," came a raspy voice from behind them. "You shouldn't--"

Five twisted his upper body, shooting the soldier a look that made his mouth snap shut immediately, his head bowing and eyes lowering to his lap.

Five spun on his heels and marched up to him, pain in his right leg forgotten as he watched with glee how the man cowered and sank deeper into his wheelchair.

"Five," came Allison's warning. "Don't."

"What?" Five asked innocently, turning to look back at them before facing the soldier again with a smile. "I wanna hear what he has to say."

A few seconds passed in silence and Five's smile faded into a sneer. " _Well_?"

"I-- you--" the man stammered quickly. "You don't have to, uh, worry about me, I--"

" _Speak up,_ " Five bit out in his father's voice, and the man jerked like he'd been hit with a whip.

"N-no one has to stay, I'll be fine, just-just lock me up somewhere," he said a little louder. "I'm not going anywhere, I can't even walk. And it's not like I can... teleport," he finished with a swallow, glancing at Five's feet.

"Huh," Five huffed out, nodding with a serious face before disappearing in a flash and appearing behind the wheelchair. "You make a great point, Bob."

He slapped his hands over the man's shoulders, squeezing as he leaned in to breathe the words next to the man's ear. "Good job. Way to contribute."

He dug his thumbs in dangerously close to the teared flesh by the shoulder blades, making the man wince, but other than the slight shivers shaking his body, the recovering soldier stayed perfectly still.

"We'll put him in Vanya's other room," Five said before bending further over the man's right shoulder, tilting his head to bring their faces inches from one another. "You'll be fine, right?"

The sweating man nodded urgently, and Five flashed him a smile, digging in his fingernails deeper.

"Don't worry," he told him with a wink. "I'll take care of you when I get back."

* * *

After thousands of successful missions, Five had developed a certain sixth sense. He could instinctively tell when something was off without necessarily being able to rationally explain it.

It was all perfectly normal, nothing supernatural about it-- after so many experiences, his brain just learned how to deduce things from little details that never entered his conscious mind.

His spider-sense had tingled when he watched Bob at the table, it tingled when they sat in Vanya's car, observing the building before them, and when they finally entered, the pressure behind his eyes only intensified, beating in a warning rhythm.

Five had come better prepared than ever - no risking improvising weapons this time, especially since he was still recovering from his previous fight. He was _ready_.

It didn't surprise him that the number of soldiers that came charging at them from every direction definitely surpassed the 'maybe couple of dozen' Bob had promised them, but even Five hadn't anticipated this many. 

Armed to the teeth with weapons and technology nothing like what Bob had described, they started picking off the Hargreeves one by one.

Vanya was knocked out first, followed by Allison who'd been grabbed and choked unconscious. Diego somehow ended up pinned to the wall of a small closet by his own knives with Klaus struggling to pull them out, and Luther and Five stood at the narrow entrance, fighting off the endless series of attacks.

"Luther, you're on your own! Hold them off!" he yelled before jumping to the back of the room where he'd seen four soldiers carrying away Vanya's lifeless body.

"Hey, wanna pick on someone even smaller?" he said from behind them, twin guns aimed at their exposed necks.

The four soldiers spun around, and as the two pairs of heads leveled up perfectly, Five pulled the triggers, two bullets flying perfectly through the four necks.

Vanya's body hit the ground with a thud and Five quickly dropped to his knees, gripping her with both his hands and summoning up the energy to jump them both outside, taking a quick three seconds to press his fingers against the vein on her wrist and lean his ear next to her nose to make sure she was still breathing before jumping back inside.

Shooting and slashing his way through the crowd, Five tried to keep his jumps to a minimum to save energy.

He located Allison's body, the endless flow of soldiers stepping over her unmoving body. He let out a growl, baring his teeth as he sank a knife into the throat of a soldier he'd climbed onto before teleporting over to his sister.

A soldier tripped over the murderous boy when he reappeared kneeling over Allison, knee bumping right into the badly healed knife wound on Five's side. A hiss escaped through his teeth as he barely kept himself from doubling over. He reached over and grabbed the man's head, snapping it with a snarl before grabbing his sister and blinking her to safety.

"-ive!" he heard Luther's strained voice when he came back.

His brother's broad and hairy back was visible from the far corner, his large arms stretched out as he blocked the entrance to the closet, shielding Diego and Klaus from the merciless attacks.

Five took a deep breath before blinking into the small space between the half ape and his two helpless brothers. Bracing himself against the wall, he allowed himself another breath before grabbing Klaus' hand.

"Grab onto Diego," he said, surprised by his weak and barely audible voice, but Klaus seemed to have heard him as he quickly wrapped his hand around Diego's arm.

Five reached out to take Diego's other arm with one hand, the other reaching up to grab Luther's shoulder.

The blue sparks flew from his hands like from an empty lighter, once, twice, three times before Five couldn't make the attempt anymore.

"Fuck," he breathed, squeezing his eyes shut. "Fuck, fuck, _fuck_."

"Five," he heard Klaus' voice through the mayhem. "Five, you gotta get us out of here, man."

He pried his eyes open to look at his brother's terrified face, and images of his dead, grey face buried beneath rubble flashed before his eyes, making his grip on Diego tighten to hold himself up.

"Five," he heard Luther cry out in a voice he barely recognized.

He wet his shaking lips, breath stuttering as he tried again. Sparks flew around his hands again, even fewer and dimmer than before, and Five choked out a desperate laugh.

"Come on, you useless fucking--" he grit out in a shaky voice, clenching his right hand into a fist around Diego's shirt with no luck.

This couldn't be happening. He had a fucking plan, he'd been _prepared_. He was going to lose his brothers again, his arrogance and incompetence was going to be the end of them-- _again_.

Five reached back for a gun with a trembling hand, pulling himself up with a dazed look on his face.

He turned towards where Luther's now bleeding body was stretched over the entrance, ready to go out swinging.

His brain registered the blast a millisecond before the shock wave sent his body flying into the wall next to Diego.

Ears ringing, he struggled to push himself up and look around. Luther was no longer obstructing the view outside the small room, his body lying on the ground at the entrance.

The last thing Five saw before passing out was a bright white light that hovered in the air, illuminating the countless lifeless bodies that littered the large hallway.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just couldn't help myself from ending the third consecutive chapter with Five passing out. Why do I enjoy hurting our sweet murder boi so???
> 
> Did you enjoy the action or do you want more one-on-one deep convos in the future? :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure how I feel about it but here it isssss! Bit of a writer's block, kinda suffered thru this one ngl :') 
> 
> Hope you enjoy it tho u wonderful babes <3

After jumping in time into what would become his home for decades, it took mere days before Five began to miss his father nearly as much as he missed his brothers and sisters.

He found himself craving the strict orders and barked demands he had always resented. Being told what to do - the very thing that stranded him in this dead world - was now something he desperately needed.

It never came. At least not for a long, long time.

His entire time in the Apocalypse, for entire decades, whatever happened - it was all on him. There was no one else to count on, and no one else to blame for anything.

It was very simple. If he wanted to keep from freezing to death, he had to start a fire. There was no arguing with the universe, no tricking it with clever words. It didn't care if you just _didn't know how_ to start a fire with barely any tools and no dry wood or trash. It had no qualms with letting a teenage boy who had just dug graves for his family with his bare hands freeze to death at night as he cried for his robot mother.

After a while - a long, long while, so long that it took more than a handful of miracles for him to survive his dumbest mistakes - he mastered the basic skills it took to survive this world.

He had of course been much more equipped to do so than the average thirteen-year-old in the first place, being a member of the Umbrella Academy and all, but the survival skills he had been taught were meant to apply to a world that hadn't collided with the fucking Moon, and surviving the apocalyptic hellscape with the knowledge he had was akin to solving the Schrodinger equation using only arithmetic. It certainly _helped_ , but it still left about ninty-nine percent of the way to go, and dad wasn't there to help him figure it out.

But there were some books, and some tools, and - what it usually all came down to - good old _trial and error_. 

So when he eventually did learn to do that quantum mechanics math - both figuratively and literally - it became almost beautiful in its simplicity.

He wanted something done, _he_ did it. The fact that it _all_ depended on him stopped being so terrifying once he realized just how good he had become at it. It was almost... comforting, that it now all depended on the only person he was ever really comfortable depending on - himself.

No one ever believed him when he'd told them he didn't _need_ anyone, and now he finally did it, he _proved_ it. He supposed the universe must have felt quite smug about the poetic justice of no one being around to witness his triumph.

'I don't even _want_ t' go back anymore,' he slurred at Dolores one evening after a bottle of her favorite red, not missing the way she rolled her eyes at his words. 'N'thing... there for me. Never needed them,' he spat, lifting the bottle vertically and emptying it. 'N'ver needed _anyone._ '

Dolores just _looked_ at him, and he immediately knew what she was thinking. He twisted away in shame and didn't look at her again until morning.

' _I wouldn't exist if that were true_ ,' her unspoken words rang in his head.

But he was aware, on some level of consciousness or another, that it all just served to further prove his point. Even when he _did_ need someone else, he _didn't_. He needed to start a fire, _he_ started a fire. He needed Dolores, _he_ made Dolores.

* * *

Five bolted uprights in the passenger seat with a familiar feeling in his gut. The view before him - moving cars and standing buildings and living people - went unnoticed, his brain replacing it all with much more familiar images of smoke and rubble.

 _No. Nonono_ _not_ again _, not_ this _, anything but this. He couldn't-_

"Five," came a voice to his left, and his clammy hands were gripping a gun before the voice was done saying his name, upper body twisting and arms extending with perfect precision.

"Hey!"

The car swayed when Klaus nearly let go of the wheel to cover his face with his hands, but Five's outstretched arms made perfect minute adjustments, never losing aim.

" _Hey_!" Klaus yelled again, finding it hard to keep his eyes on the road when there was a gun aimed at his head.

"Kla--us," Five rasped as he stared wide-eyed, and his lips trembled in such contrast to his steady grip that it seemed like someone else was aiming the gun. "Klaus," he repeated with a frown, like trying to convince himself.

"Hey, relax, relax, you're okay. We're all okay."

The memories of the recent fight seemed to slam into his head all at once, and Five lowered his arms as the real world around him slowly seeped in, like pixel by pixel overtaking the dead hues and stench of the Apocalypse. 

His now shaking hands were still gripping the weapon, fingers clenched and not ready to let go, but Klaus let out a breath of relief.

"Five, hey, man, are you hearing me? Everyone's okay. Look, see?" Klaus said, pointing to the back of the car, but Five didn't move save for the shivers, his thousand mile stare burning a hole through Klaus' face.

"Look," Klaus repeated, one finger coming up slowly to lightly nudge Five's chin, turning his head to the left.

Vanya, Allison and Diego were cramped into the backseat, slumping over one another, and Luther's dark haired body was peeking from behind the seats.

"See, everyone's in one piece. We all made it. Everything's fine. Alright?"

Five blinked slowly, and then his heart suddenly clenched in panic as his siblings disappeared again, replaced by pitch black darkness created by his impossibly heavy eyelids he couldn't seem to move again.

Someone let out a whine, surely too pathetic to be Five's but too close to his ears to be anyone else's, and then finally light poured back through thin slits before the bodies of his family came back into view.

He could see their chests rising and falling.

"Ev... everyone..."

"Everyone, yes, everyone's here, buddy. We're all here."

He slumped back into the car seat, head lolling as he tried to focus his barely opened eyes on Klaus.

Klaus shot him a shaky grin and Five's arms dropped like lead, the sound of the gun clattering to the floor the last thing he heard before his eyes glued themselves shut.

* * *

He was pulled out of a feverish dream by a gentle humming melody, the sound grounding his awareness. A dark silhouette appeared behind the eyelashes of Five's barely opened eyes.

His arm shot up on it's own accord, fingers wrapping around a throat for the millionth time in the well-practiced motion that was now a muscle memory, triggered on instinct.

The boy squeezed his eyes shut, trying to clear his vision while he tugged at the person's neck in an attempt to pull himself up from where he was laying.

He forced his eyes open again, and the silhouette sharpened into an image of his mother.

She smiled like she wasn't being strangled, a slender hand coming up to wrap gently around Five's wrist.

"Mom..." Five slurred, slowly unclenching his fingers and relaxing his hand into Grace's hold.

Grace lowered his arm back onto the bed, her palm spreading out to cover the back of his hand, the movement of her thumb a perfect sinusoidal oscillation.

"You were on a mission, Number Five. Your brothers and sisters are all unharmed, but you have some more resting to do," she said with a smile, her free hand smoothing down his arm before coming to a rest on his forearm.

Five stared up at her in a daze, her face coming in an out of focus as his mind drifted, unable to get a grasp on reality as different decades bled into the moment.

"I..." he tried to speak over the high-pitched ringing in his ears, mouth full of cotton.

"Did you need something, honey?" Grace asked, leaning in towards him until her face took up most of his view. "How about a glass of warm milk?"

Five nodded, eyes fixed on her warm smile.

"Maybe even with a teaspoon of cocoa?" she said with a whisper and a wink, her smile turning mischievous like she was suggesting a forbidden treat.

It did feel forbidden. It felt impossible.

His dry lips cracked as they stretched into a small smile, and Five closed his eyes, his head swimming.

He nodded again, the back of his head rubbing against the pillow.

A warmth hovered above his forehead before lips pressed down in a feather-light kiss. "I'll go heat it up."

* * *

For a few moments, panicked breathing and the clattering of teeth were the only sounds in the otherwise dead-silent kitchen of the Hargreeves' mansion.

"I- I just... I just..."

"You're gonna have to do better than that, Bob," Diego said in a deep, threatening voice as his grip tightened around Bob's throat warningly, the tip of a knife poking at the sensitive skin.

"I just..." Bob spluttered again before squeezing his eyes shut. He began to shake even harder before his face twisted into an anguished grimace.

"I just wanted him to _die_!" he shouted, and Diego stilled at the raw desperation in the man's voice. "I wanted him to _suffer_ for what he _did to me_!" Bob sobbed, blinking rapidly as tears began to form in his eyes that were now staring at Diego, wide with fear. "I didn't mean for any of you to get hurt, I _swear_ it, I just... I just..."

Diego's fingers loosened a little, his righteous anger wavering as he watched the pathetic pleading before him.

"But you _knew_ the rest of us would be in danger," came Allison's voice. "You were willing to get us _all_ killed."

"Allison," Luther said, sounding shocked. "What, you actually believe him?"

"I..." she started, struggling to find the words, then turned to stare at the ground, visibly conflicted.

"Please, Allison... guys... you- you don't know the things he did to me," Bob whispered hoarsely in a quivering voice, hands wrapping around Diego's wrist more like he was seeking comfort than trying to free himself.

"We saw it, Bob, remember?" Luther said, trying to keep his voice steady as he recalled the soldier's naked hanging figure, soaked in blood. "Me and Allison and Klaus, we saw you."

"No," he shook his head urgently. "No... God, you don't _understand_ ," he said with a wet, broken laugh. "You don't understand what he-- what he's _capable_ of, you have no _idea,_ I-- I--"

He was now sobbing so hard that Diego held on just to keep him from collapsing on the ground. "Bob-"

"I'm so, _so_ sorry," he said, squeezing his eyes shut again as tears fell down his cheeks, soaking up the gauze that was still wrapped around his chin. "I- I- I couldn't, I just couldn't, I'm so sorry, I couldn't go through it again, please, I'm so sorry, you have to forgive me, you have to, _please_!"

"Jesus, Diego, just let him go! You're choking him!" came Allison's voice that worked faster than a rumor, Diego immediately releasing Bob's throat and gripping his shoulders instead as the man nearly collapsed onto him, continuing the neverending stream of sobbed apologies into Diego's shirt.

Diego turned his head sideways to shoot Allison a begging look, and she sighed, stepping closer and gently lowering her hand onto Bob's shaking back, making him jump and press closer to Diego.

"Bob," she said in her gentle but strong motherly voice. "We're not..." she trailed off, turning to look at Luther, then Diego, then back at the quivering man. "We're not mad at you, okay?"

Bob let out a desperate sob, pulling away from Diego to press into Allison instead.

She wrapped her arms around him easily, hand sliding up and down his back as she instinctively began to murmur comfortingly into his ear. "Shh... There, there... You're okay... You're safe..."

Diego and Luther looked at each other, both of them conflicted and uncomfortable with their sister consoling the man who essentially just tried to murder them, but neither of them really wanted to deprive the physically and emotionally broken man of the small comfort he was receiving.

They stood there awkwardly until the sobs died down.

"You have to kill me," came Bob's quiet voice, muffled by Allison's shirt, and the three Hargreeves turned to stare at him.

Diego broke the silence when it was clear no explanation was coming. "Kill you?"

"He'll find me. I... I can't. You have to, please."

"He won't hurt you again, Bob," Allison said, voice quiet but firm as she wrapped her arms a little tighter, trying to make him feel as safe as possible so he'd believe her promise. "Trust me. We won't let it happen again. We won't. Okay?"

Bob nodded against her, smearing tears and snot on her shoudler.

Allison lifted her head to look at her brothers.

"We won't," she repeated with a determined look on her face, and they both nodded solemnly.

* * *

Five had dealt with his fair share of headaches in his long life.

Drinking yourself half to death while on a near constant diet of worms and dehydration had certainly been responsible for a few of The Biggest Hits, as were the ones that were brought on by untreated injuries and as unalliviated symptoms of serious illnesses.

But the worst ones, the ones that made him fantasize about smashing his head against a rock like a ripe watermelon, were the ones that would come after he had overused his powers, forced to go beyond whatever he thought his limits were.

Medicine - like most things humanity had invented and created - wasn't built to withstand the Moon crashing into it, which forced Five into dealing with those headaches the same way he dealt with everything else - on his own.

A clear liquid flowed down a smooth tube, squeezing through a needle at the end to enter Five's bloodstream, dripping above him from a large bag, lazy and unassuming, like it wasn't the only thing keeping Five from experiencing a headache of the century.

Five would have given his right arm for that bag not that long ago.

"Five?"

He rolled his head to the other side to meet Klaus' eyes and open hand. _Hello_.

"Can a man ever wake up _alone_ in this fucking house?" he croaked with no bite, turning away to face the ceiling. His tongue felt numb as he tried to maneuver it to wet his dry lips, and the sleep in his eyes bothered him just enough to attempt lifting his arms, only to find them too heavy.

"Okay, well," Klaus said, sounding a little offended, "I thought you wouldn't want to wake up alone after that-"

He snapped his mouth shut, head turning sharply to look at an empty corner before turning back to Five. "Aaaanyway," he said with a nervous smile, doing a complicated, meaningless gesture with his hands. "How you feeling, o brother mine?" he asked in an exaggeratedly dramatic way to hide the fact that the whole affair really was quite dramatic and he desperately needed to make sure that Five was okay. "Had us worried there for a sec, what with the-"

He cut himself off again, his lips pressing together in an annoyed grin as he turned his head again, whispering through unmoving lips. "Well what do you _suggest_ I-"

"Stop bickering like an old married couple," Five said at the ceiling, surprised that he felt no need to inject any cruelty into his words, apparently too tired even for that deeply ingrained behavior. 

"Ha!" Klaus exclaimed, tilting his head to scowl at the empty corner. "All I get is the _nagging_ , he doesn't even put out."

Five turned his head slightly to watch as Klaus' quickly lifted his arms to cover his head and face in a gesture that indicated Ben was probably trying to hit him over the head.

"Ughhh!" Klaus groaned as he flayed his arms around. "I told you to stop doing that! One day your hand's just going to materialize right inside my brain, and I'm guessing that would be super gross for you, so quit it!"

Klaus huffed and crossed his arms, scowling dramatically as he looked at Five. "Can you believe this guy? _So_ unsafe."

Klaus' face softened suddenly, eyes scanning his little brother's face. Then he smiled like he was smiling _back_ , and Five realized he was.

"So anyway," Klaus said quickly, turning his head and looking everywhere but at Five. "We were just going to the store because there's no ice cream in the house and also because I really don't want anyone to come up to get me and force me to join thei-- errrrr because there's no ice cream in the house, yes, _so_ , now that you're up, what flavor ice cream do you want?"

Five frowned at the mostly unintelligible stream of words that was coming out of his brother's mouth, but he felt his tiny smile grow a little wider still, and his exhaustion must have boiled his brain despite the medicine because he was _actually_ thinking about what flavor he wanted.

For a moment, his constant insistence on keeping his family at a distance suddenly felt almost... childish _._ _Of course_ he wanted to be near them, to see them, to smile at them. To tell them what flavor ice cream he wanted. For a thin but blissful slice of time, the need to let himself be taken care of by his family didn't make his mouth twist with repulsion. It felt natural. It was... okay. He was okay.

He wished he could visit his thirty-something self and tell him that one day, he's not even going to be able to wake up without one of his brothers or sisters pestering him and fussing over his injuries and asking if he's okay and if there's anything he _needs_ and-

Five bolted upwards in his bed in a flash.

His family.

The ambush.

Vanya's limp body.

Luther's bloody back.

... **_Bob_**.

Everything clicked back into place, reality becoming suddenly clear, and he felt like a ghost that had been sucked back into his corporeal body.

His blood felt like it was suddenly boiling and he was half expecting the IV to catch on fire and explode next to him.

He didn't protect them.

He failed to do the one and only fucking thing he was ever supposed to do, couldn't protect his family, and now here he was, indulging in this twisted little fantasy of being _taken care of,_ daydreaming about being part of the family again in any real sense and thinking about ice cream flavors like he wasn't a sixty-year-old assassin whose taste buds could no longer distinguish between strawberry and rat guts.

Meanwhile the rest of his useless siblings were no doubt finding new and creative ways to _fuck everything up_.

Klaus was still talking in the background, and Five realized the clouds of his earlier emotional episode had apparently cleared completely and left behind only the usual irritation at his siblings.

He tore the needle from his arm and shot Klaus a look that stopped him from coming closer. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed in one swift motion and stood, surprised at how steady he felt.

He felt a smug sense of satisfaction at being proven right yet again-- he had been unable to even lift his arms in his sentimental delirium, high on the disgustingly warm feeling of being taken care of and cared for by his brother, but now, purged of that neediness and sentiment, righteous anger setting every atom of his body ablaze, he felt clearheaded and strong, both body and mind sharp as a razorblade again. 

He clenched his fists as he let the rage consume him, gripping at the fabric of spacetime with a tug so violent he could feel the universe wince. The pain that shot up his arms felt good, like a well-deserved punishment for allowing himself to lose focus on the only thing that mattered - protecting his family - and in a flash of blue light, he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmmhmhm how do we feel about Bob's lil outburst? Any tears shed for our tortured young nazi soldier or were you rooting for Diego's knife to slip?
> 
> P.S. I already know how I feel about it because I've already started on the next chapter huehue (I thought I'd fit the Five/Bob scene in this chapter but I was too lazy to finish it :( )
> 
> Some heavyass angst coming up and I know you're happy about that cuz otherwise you would've given up on this angstfest a loooong time ago.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Feedback suuuuper welcome as always.


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